


Singing the Bedfellow’s Song

by Niki



Series: From Pent-up Aching Rivers [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: AU: Supernatural, Case Fic, Creature Fic, F/F, F/M, Family, Friendship, M/M, Soul Bond, Tattoos, Trope Bingo Round 3, original character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1276456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niki/pseuds/Niki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In the weird synchronicity the universe sometimes presented, it was only a few weeks after Ziva had learnt Tony's secret that a related case fell into their lap.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MerNeith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerNeith/gifts).



> Trope Bingo Square: AU: Supernatural

In the weird synchronicity the universe sometimes presented, it was only a few weeks after Ziva had learnt Tony's secret that a related case fell into their lap in the form of a dead wife of a Navy lieutenant. Amanda Kemp had been shot in the back of the head, execution style, with a .22 round, beyond which Ducky couldn't find anything useful on her body.

Tony could. He had attended Gibbs to the morgue to hear Ducky's report and his eyes trained on the very familiar tattoo-like mark on the woman's hip. Well, brand. Bonding marks were called marks when still on a 'bus but brands after they had transferred on to the Chosen during the bonding rituals, perfectly identical except for the colour. 

Tony's own tattoo was black but it would acquire a bronze hue if... well, best not think about that at work. 

“We need to find the girlfriend,” he said, eyes still on the brand.

“I don't recall any mention of a mistress in the husband's background,” Gibbs said. 

“Not his, hers.”

\- - -

The team was gathered around the screen in the bullpen, picture of the tattoo on it.

“It's a sign of a very specific subculture,” Tony ad-libbed. “Tribal roots,” he added as background colour, as the swirls and sharp points of the mark were close enough to the modern “tribal” style of tattoos.

“It is a sign of commitment, and the loops in the middle mean it is a commitment to a woman.”

“I've never heard of it,” McGee said, sceptically.

“I have,” Ziva said instantly, obviously realising what was going on even without any prompting from Tony. 

“Really?” 

“Maybe Mossad is just better informed.”

Now McGee was frowning, and Tony was mildly irritated that he found Ziva a more trustworthy source. He also once again admired Ziva's ability to lie without actually lying.

“It's pretty!” Abby joined in, obviously summoned by the very presence of tattoos. “I've never heard of it either, but it's a cool concept. What are the 'committed to men' tattoos like?”

“More angular,” Tony said, very consciously not moving his hand to his.

“And how do you know so much about them?” Abby was not suspicious but maybe a little mischievous. 

Well, “Tony” and “committed” where about as rare a combination as “Tony” and “tattoos” previously. 

“I've known people who carry them,” he said evasively, before turning to McGee. “Any luck on finding her?”

“Nothing that stands out. Do you think the husband would know?”

“Let's go ask,” Gibbs said, ending the discussion. 

\- - -

When Tony saw the red eyes of one of Amanda's co-workers, he didn't even need to get close enough to sense her to know she was the one. He deviated from the route they were taking towards her boss, and came to a stop next to her desk.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he said, gently, and the succubus started crying again. 

Tony met Gibbs's eyes over her head, and nodded a little towards the corridor, indicating he'd talk to the woman there. Gibbs nodded, and turned back towards the boss. At least Tony knew his boss would always trust him to get more out of any female witnesses. 

He refused to view the distraught lover as a suspect. This time, even more than usually, he was betting on the husband.

“Tony DiNozzo, NCIS,” he said, helping the woman stand. When they touched the slight buzz he'd felt ever since stepping into the room got stronger, like a current of energy between them, telling both of them what the other was.

“Emma Dempsey.”

“If we could go somewhere more private...?”

She looked at him with a little frown, then nodded and led him out of the office door an into an empty coffee room. He closed the door. 

She fidgeted a bit around the room before sitting down on one of the chairs. Tony spent the time observing her. She was in her late twenties, slim but shapely, and would be very attractive if her auburn hair wasn't lying lifelessly around her face or her eyes red and puffy from crying. She clutched a tissue in her hands. 

“She was your Chosen, wasn't she?” Tony asked, still in that gentle voice and sat down next to her.

“Yes.”

“How long were you together?”

“Just a few months.”

“And... her husband?”

“Refused to even talk about divorce. I suppose I understand him, their marriage had been seemingly happy and normal until...”

“Until you two met.”

“Yeah, I knew... we both knew, the moment we first saw each other.... Are you bonded?”

“No.”

“I'm sorry. It's the best thing. I never realised how instant, how inevitable, it all was.”

Tony said nothing, because as instant as his own recognition had been, he was still waiting for the inevitability.

“And now she's gone and I have nothing to look forward to in life, ever again.”

The words were simple and when in anyone else who had just lost a partner he could have consoled them with the future that was ahead, in this case... he sort of had to agree. 

“My father lost my mother when I was just a child,” he said, the wording making the source of his inheritance clear. “He has married since, made a full life for himself.”

Now if only she didn't ask how _many_ times he'd done that...

“You will never have another like her, true. But the human side of you can still find love.”

“I don't even want to think about touching anyone else right now.”

“I know. Can you tell me about Amanda? Why would anyone want to hurt her?”

“I've been thinking about nothing else since I felt her die.”

“You felt that?”

“That's right, you're not... It's a physical thing, the bond, but it's also mental. I felt her, sometimes, her moods, her presence. Her passing.”

“I'm sorry.” He hadn't known that. Maybe because he'd been too young to realise this about his parents, and his father had never talked about that when telling him about his nature, his inheritance.

“There's nothing in our work lives that would warrant that, no... enemies. God, what a dramatic word. She was well-loved, modest, hard-working. The only one I can think of... God forgive me, is Walter.”

“Her husband?”

“Yes, he wasn't... I've never met him, but he... Ama said he changed, after she talked to him about divorce.”

“When was this?”

“When he returned on land a few weeks ago. She wanted to wait, to talk to him face to face, and we were going to wait to bond but...”

“But...?”

“But the call was too powerful, we couldn't resist, couldn't be apart but couldn't be together either without... so she gave in, and we... And it was glorious.”

“Did anyone else know?”

“We tried to be discreet at the office, of course we did, but... It's hard to hide happiness that strong. We tried to pass it off as just being really good friends but I think someone might have suspected.”

“Would it cause bad blood here?”

“I don't think so, not strong enough to kill anyone at least.”

“Okay. You realise, I have to ask: where were you yesterday morning between ten and eleven?”

“10:37,” she corrected, and, yeah, she'd know, apparently. “Home, waiting for her. She was spending the weekend at the house, with him, trying to talk through their problems. He couldn't understand why she was suddenly unhappy in the relationship, and she couldn't really explain too much. We agreed she'd keep my name out of it, just in case.”

“Any witnesses?”

“My cat? There are cameras outside the apartment complex, I guess you could see me leaving around that time.”

“Leaving where?”

“I felt it, but I didn't want to believe it. I tried calling her, and there was no answer, so I drove over to their place.”

“And?”

“By the time I got there, maybe an hour later, they were... well, you guys were there. NCIS. Walter looked distraught and there was a body bag and... and I knew what I had felt. So I drove... away. I don't even know where. I was... It's a miracle I got home alive. Or a curse. I should have died, too.”

She had been crying the whole time, but her voice had never risen or broken. There was something dignified about her grief, much calmer than the dramatics Tony remembered from his father. She seemed resigned more than...

“You _are_ looking after yourself,” he demanded, suddenly, not an agent now but a fellow 'bus – a brother.

“It's only been a day,” she said, quietly.

“But you plan on looking after yourself?” The question was pointed, and she looked away.

“How could I ever touch anyone else again?”

“Don't let this kill you, too.”

“Your father... he had you to look after. I have a cat, and a cactus she bought me as a house-warming gift. Is that enough?”

\- - -

“Emma Dempsey met Amanda Kemp when she transferred into the office four months ago, and the two fell in love immediately. Amanda and Walter had had no previous problems in their marriage as far as Emma could say. The two started a relationship but Amanda wanted to wait for her husband to return before approaching him about a divorce.”

“Four months was enough to get matching tattoos?” McGee asked incredulously. 

“Apparently, it was... intense,” Tony said, noticing Ziva's small nod in the background. At least he knew she'd believe the story.

“Does she have a matching tattoo?” Gibbs asked.

Well, no, she wouldn't, the bonding mark was on Amanda now, but he wasn't about to explain that. 

“Come on, Boss, even I don't try to get into the lady's pants the day after she lost her partner!”

“What did the director of the office say?” Ziva asked to distract Gibbs, and Tony had never been more grateful for her presence. It was invaluable to have a partner in crime in this, running interference even when she didn't know why it was needed exactly.

“There were rumours about the two. He didn't approve, having met and liked Lieutenant Kemp.”

“Do we have Amanda's phone? Emma said she tried to call her around twenty to eleven. She was worried because she hadn't heard from her – she was supposed to come over.” That was as close as he could get to the truth.

“Yeah, Abby has it.”

\- - -

Amanda Kemp's phone showed five missed calls from 10:38 to 10:55, from a number labelled only as “Emma.”

Emma Dempsey showed up on cameras leaving her apartment way too late to have reached the crime scene before Ducky's estimated time of death. Amanda's phone also gave evidence to their relationship, in form of calls and text messages. There was nothing suspicious going on at their work place. Her friends were broken-hearted about her passing, and could shed no light. The ballistic evidence was useless unless they found a gun to compare with the bullet. The neighbours hadn't been home and couldn't shed any light in the situation. 

That left the husband. Tony had avoided talking to him until know. He wasn't sure he could restrain himself if he found out he was the murderer. Killing someone's Chosen was the greatest crime in their culture, worse than any other murder, and always punishable by death. 

Luckily Tony wasn't the only one who found his story suspect.

“So he maintains that his wife was going to break things off with Emma Dempsey, was in fact going to do so that very day, and he left her to it and went to a bar?”

“So he says. He arrived around eleven according to the barman – only the neighbourhood drunks were present, so he stood out. He said he appeared normal, not agitated in any way.”

“Amanda wouldn't break things off with Emma, that's a given...” Tony started to say but was interrupted.

“Why?” McGee asked. 

“She didn't get the tattoo on a whim, Probie. Those things mean something.”

“Yeah, that you have a valid ID and some cash.”

“It's not just a tattoo,” Tony tried to explain. “It's a commitment to a lifestyle, as well as a person.”

“How do you know she viewed it that way?” McGee was persistent. 

“Because it's a culture of its own. You don't just march into any tattoo parlour to get one. You need to fully commit before you can even be considered for one.”

“How do you know so much about this? I could find nothing online.”

“They don't advertise it, so that the marks won't be copied by those... less committed.”

“So how _do_ you know about it?”

“My parents had them,” Tony said quietly, realising the younger agent wouldn't let it go. “It's not something we advertise, okay?”

“So that's it,” McGee said. “I've been wondering why you've been so... un-Tony about all of this. Focused. You find it personal.”

Tony wanted to yell, he wanted to... Focused? The Probie thought he wasn't focused during other cases? And damn right it was personal, that woman down in their morgue was his sister, the other woman crippled for _life_ by this case was...

“Focus.” Their Boss's voice, but for once directed at McGee, accompanied with the expected head slap.

“But...”

“So Amanda would not leave Emma,” Tony repeated, pointedly. 

“But would she say to the Lieutenant that she was going to?” Ziva suggested.

“If he was threatening her, maybe. Which also belies the whole going to a bar thing. If he was forcing her, wouldn't he drive her there himself?”

“There are no priors, he doesn't own a gun in personal life, not licensed anyway, and no one had anything bad to say about how he treated his wife,” McGee listed. 

“I think it's time to go ask him a few more questions.”

\- - -

But Lieutenant Kemp was not alone by the time they reached the house. The yelling from within had Gibbs and Tony pulling their guns and approaching the building like a hostage situation in the making. 

The arrived just in time to see Emma Dempsey pistol-whip Walter Kemp to the ground. 

“Emma!” Tony shouted, lowering his gun. No matter what it looked like, he would never believe the succubus was anything but a victim in the whole thing.

“He killed her,” she said, eyes still red but for once not crying.

“How do you know?”

“He said... he bragged to me about how he... how he...” The hand holding the gun wavered but she kept it trained at the seemingly unconscious man on the ground. 

“Well, we're here to arrest him,” Tony said, bending the truth just a bit, nodding to Gibbs to go check on the body on the ground. 

Gibbs raised his eyebrows at him, pointedly staring at the gun still in her hand. Tony shook his head, and nodded towards the unconscious man. He'd take care of Emma.

“This isn't the way, Emma,” he said, stepping boldly into the space between her and her target.

“He killed what was mine!”

“I know.”

“All these years I'd waited for her, and I only got to keep her for four months!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know, but you can't do this.”

“How do you know? You haven't even found yours!”

“I didn't say I hadn't met him. I just said I didn't have him,” Tony said, quietly, hoping Gibbs wouldn't hear.

That shocked Emma enough to take her attention away from Kemp and Tony stepped closer to put his hand on the gun. 

“Killing him won't bring her back,” he said.

“But it's my right,” she whispered. 

“I know. And as your brother I couldn't fault you. But I'm not just your brother, I'm a federal agent, and I'd be forced to arrest you. I don't want to arrest you.”

“He took the sunlight from my life,” she said, fury and sadness fighting on her face, in her eyes, and now she was crying. “And I don't care what happens to me.”

“I do. Please. I owe it to Amanda to make sure you survive this.”

“What is she to you?”

“A sister, just as you.”

The gun fell on the floor, and Tony gathered the now sobbing woman into his arms, rocking her gently, petting her hair, being there, physically, letting the buzzing current of shared blood remind her she was not alone.

“Where did you get the gun?” he asked, after she had calmed down a bit.

“It's his. He'd hidden it in Ama's study. I came to... find if there was anything... about us, there. Claimed I was just a concerned co-worker, friend, but he knew me, knew about us. I thought Ama never said my name but...”

“How's Kemp, Boss?” he asked, louder.

“Alive.”

“He confessed to Ms Dempsey.”

“Hearsay.”

“Gun's his.”

“With her prints all over it.”

Tony turned to look at him arms still around Emma and could see he was just playing Devil's advocate. 

“I'm sure Abby can give us something.”

“We'll have to bring her in, too.”

“She just performed a civilian arrest?” Tony suggested, smirking.

He knew he still had a fight in his hands with keeping Emma alive but at least he was pretty confident they could keep her out of jail.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, tell me about your Chosen,” Emma said, curled up on her sofa, cat purring on her lap, and sipping from a glass of red wine. She looked thin and worn, and Tony knew she had to be starving by now, but at least she had stopped crying every hour of every day.

He stared into his own wine, part of him regretting telling her anything. But mostly he was just glad to finally have someone like him to talk to. Someone who'd understand on a whole another level than Ziva.

“It was like you said, instant recognition. My mark was on fire and all of my body came to attention. The problem was... I was a cop, and he was a criminal I had just tackled to the ground.”

“Oh no!”

“It's okay, it turned out he was a federal agent, undercover. But I... I had this woman I had even thought about proposing to. I was thirty, hadn't found him, half believing I never would, half fearing it because commitment and me were not friends. I never stayed longer than two years in any job, got by on one-night-stands. Until Wendy. And suddenly there was this stranger with blue eyes and my whole body sang when he was in the room.”

“And?”

“And then he offered me a job. We worked well together, he obviously... liked me. He _liked_ me, Em. No desire in his eyes. Nothing deeper.”

“Bullshit. He's a mate chosen to you by destiny or whoever or whatever makes the calls. Love and desire are guaranteed.”

“But what if they aren't there? And I try and lose him? I have him in my life now. If I didn't work with him...”

“You're afraid to try.”

“Damn right. Because no one ever wants me. Not to keep. So why would this mystical bonding thing not malfunction with me too? After all, parents are supposed to love their kids as well.”

“You know you have to explain that, brother mine.”

“I was the only kid, so when my mother died... Dad wouldn't get any more kids, obviously. But he had me, and I could continue the bloodline. And then I hit puberty.”

“And your bonding mark said you were destined for a man.”

“Precisely. No kids for Anthony DiNozzo junior. So dad basically wrote me out of his life. Disinherited me, sent me away to boarding school. No son of his, and all that clichéd crap.”

Emma set the wine and the cat aside and came to sit on his lap, hugging him close. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. It was a long ago.”

“But he wasn't the only one to reject you or you wouldn't be this wary of the concept.”

“Maybe. But that's... stories for another time. How about we watch a goddamn movie or something?”

“Or how about you take me to bed?”

“Em?”

“It's been almost a month since I lost her, Tony. Almost a month since I've had any. I'm getting too weak, I know it, but I can't stomach the thought of anyone else. You I could do this with. You I can touch. And I know you haven't been out much either, spending most of your free time with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I've chosen to live, Tony. Help me survive it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Mr Niki is my go-to (usually historical) consultant for my stories, and as he knows more about guns than I do, I asked him, “Which gun would a US naval officer use to kill his wife?” His reply? “I don't think there's a service guideline for it.” Then he and my brother got really helpful and creative. Among their suggestions was “one that is loaded.” In the end I went with the .22 because that's the one I've shot with most.


End file.
